


Lights, Baubles, Insecurities!

by Magikenz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikenz/pseuds/Magikenz
Summary: Simon and Baz have been living with each other for three weeks because Penny has moved to America to study with Micah. It's Christmas time, and Simon wants to decorate their tree...All of these characters belong to Rainbow Rowell. Comments and kudos are appreciated. (I am American so if any British references are wrong, or if they aren't British enough, then I do apologize.) :D





	

"Baz," Simon says tensely. "Can you _please_ get this off me?"  

I poke my head into the lounge from the kitchen and burst out laughing. One thing I did not plan to see on this blustery December morning was Simon Snow covered head to foot in gaudy gold tinsel. But that's exactly what I got. 

He glares at me, frustrated and fuming. "Twat. Get in here and help me." 

I snap a picture quickly with my phone, posting it on my story just before he lunges for the device. Except his legs are still bound with tinsel, so he trips and falls flat on his face. I cackle, taking more shots of my poor boyfriend. "Simon Snow, still the worst chosen one ever. Defeated by tinsel." 

He rolls over, still glowering. "You promised to help." 

"I  _am_ helping. I was making tea." 

He blows a tuft of curls off his forehead. "Screw tea. Help me get the tree up so it can be Christmas." 

"Technically we have until the twenty-fourth." 

"Baaaaaaz," he groans. 

"Siiiimonnn," I mock. The kettle whistles pointedly from the kitchen. "Be right back. Two sugars?" 

"Yes," he grumbles. 

When I return, Simon has managed to untangle himself. He slumps on the couch, glaring at our little tree. When I hand him the mug of peppermint tea he slurps it loudly as if wanting to scare the tree into submission. 

"Simon," I say lightly. "Why is the tree so important?" 

He sighs. "You know why. I didn't ever have a  _real_ family Christmas tree...well, I guess the ones at Watford might count." He frowns again, this time at his mug. 

I nod. "I could just magic everything onto the tree, you know, and then we could play Uncharted all day." 

"I don't wanna play Uncharted." He sets his mug down and runs his hand through his curls.

I smirk, "We could do something else..." 

"Baz!" He pretends to be scandalized by widening his eyes and letting his mouth hang open in a perfect O. "How  _dare_ you assume my promiscuity?" 

I look at him funny, "One, good word use...but two...I don't think that's how you use promiscuity." 

"It is now," he says, sticking out his tongue. "Because I said so." 

I snort and sip my tea. 

"You're going to help me with the tree, right," he asks.  

"After I study." 

" _No_! No studying, only tree...ing." 

"Tree-ing?" 

"Treeing." 

"That's _definitely_ not how you use that word, babe." 

He pouts, furrowing his brow and sticking out his tongue. 

"How old _are_ you?" 

"Time is irrelevant and age is a social construct." 

I laugh, "No more Tumblr for you." 

He turns upside down, his curls dangling off his head, and looks at the tree. I follow his lead. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I think that if I put the lights on from the top down, we'll be good." 

I glance at him. "Simon. If you hadn't put the lights on, then what are you doing with the tinsel?" 

He shrugs, or at least he would if he could without falling off the couch. "Contemplating..." 

I grin. "I'm gonna go study." I carefully slide headfirst off the couch. 

He groans and slowly slithers off the sofa as well. "Nooooo,  _Baz_! You  _have_ to help." 

I sigh and push my hand through my hair. I've got three exams to study for, and they're all on Monday. It's Friday. If I don't study today, I'll have to study more tonight and tomorrow...

But looking at my boyfriend collapsed in a pile of tinsel, packaged red baubles, and fairy lights...

"Fine," I say. 

Two hours later, I realize my mistake. Not only has Simon been tangled in the lights twice, no, he's broken three baubles and eaten half of the popcorn I made to string on the tree.  _This is gonna take a while._

"Simon Oliver Snow," I snap as another bauble shatters. 

"At least it wasn't the star," he says. The sharp frustration in his voice startles me. 

I glance at the star that's sitting safely on the sofa cushions. "Thank Crowley." 

He scowls at me. "I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment," he snarls.  

"Simon, I never said that," I say, my voice rising a bit. 

"You thought it." 

"I didn't," I say. He always gets like this when he's frustrated and tired. I take a breath. "Let's have lunch, and then we'll come back to it." 

He sullenly sits at the counter while I fix sandwiches. The sound of a cheese toastie frying in the pan fills the silence. 

"I'm sorry I broke the baubles." 

"It's fine," I say. "They were cheap." 

He frowns. "I can't do anything right." 

"It's just a Christmas tree. It doesn't have to be perfect." 

He chews his lip. "Maybe we shouldn't have moved in together." 

I blink. The knife clatters to the floor. "What?" 

"I mean," he glances at the lounge. "I can't even do a  _Christmas tree_ correctly, what kind of partner am I?" 

"It's just a few baubles," I stammer. I can't believe he's talking like this. My heart starts racing and my throat closes. Immediately, my mind goes straight to the worst scenario.  _He's breaking up with me,_ I think.  _He regrets moving in here. And it's only been three weeks! I knew I wasn't right for Simon Sn--_

And then I process his words. "Simon. Are you afraid that you're not good enough to live with me?" 

"I'm an awful boyfriend," he says quickly. "Remember? I don't know how Agatha put up with me for so long." 

I cross the kitchen and come to stand next to him. Shakily I sit on the stool. _How can I make him understand?_  "You will always be enough," I say quietly. "I thought you knew that." 

He stares at me, eyes actually brimming with tears. It makes them look even bluer. 

"Have you been worried about this since November?"

He nods, swallowing hard. "I thought...I thought if we moved in..." 

"Simon! We've been living with each other for  _eight bloody years._ If I hadn't figured out that you were a sloppy, crappy roommate in all that time, then  _you_ should be worried." 

A tears rolls down his cheek, but he's smiling slightly. He brushes it away. I lean forward, putting my forehead on his. His crushed curls feel like silk on my skin. 

"You're always going to be enough," I whisper again. "I promise you." Then I smirk. "Even if you are a crap roommate." 

He bites his lip. I start to lean back, but he follows and kisses me quickly. 

"I love you," he says. 

I smile. "I hope so, or that Christmas present was a waste..." 

"Shut up," he mumbles, and then he kisses me again. 

We don't notice the burning cheese toastie until the smoke alarm starts screeching. 


End file.
